


Embarrassment makes up for a good dessert

by Crazy_Dorky_Clown



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Stranger Sex, Waiter Jesse McCree, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dorky_Clown/pseuds/Crazy_Dorky_Clown
Summary: Remember those voice lines during the Retribution event? What if McCree's reason for being fired was something much different from whatever thing anyone could have expected?It's all surprises when it comes to a cowboy in waiter clothing.(Or no, not really... It's all in the tags. No actual surprises. Sorry.)





	Embarrassment makes up for a good dessert

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write my first Overwatch fanfiction and here it is, smutty and probably pretty lame, but eh. Doubt you will want to read this- oh, wait, if you're reading this it means you're in. Well, I hope you don't deem it necessary to return to the previous page!
> 
> Warning: Italian language and Southern accent (horrific) attempts below.
> 
> Enjoy the McCree goodies, there are never enough of them!

What a nice atmosphere it was. The restaurant was filled to the brim with people clad in their best fineries, relaxing on the comfortable seats that surrounded those big, circular tables exhibiting mouthwatering delicacies. There was modest chatter which only slightly quieted the music playing in the background, not through a radio cassette and speakers, but a small chamber orchestra playing on a polished wood stage, as if they merely partook in the good-taste that was the scenery as a whole.

Not McCree’s cup of tea, but he wasn’t there – dressed in a modest ebony vest, bow tie impeccably wrapped around the well-ironed v-neck of his cloud-white dress shirt, long, equally dark trousers that almost covered a pair of shiny leather shoes, and, oh, no hat – to complain about what was surrounding him.

In all honesty, though, he was sure he was doing his “part-time job” mighty fine, never tripping and never dropping any of the expensive silverware and glasses which were so precious that they could have actually been carved by praise-worthy craftsmanship.

How the hell he had managed a job here to go undercover for the mission, he didn’t know and would rather not ask. Probably Gabriel and his many contacts, but it was still highly impressive.

“You better don’t screw it up, my reputation is on the line here,” the older man had warned him, but Jesse knew for a fact he was joking (the whole situation was joke-worthy), and easily replied about it with a lighthearted “What reputation, boss?”

He chuckled at the memory, nodding his head at the couple whose order he had just placed before them to enjoy. The damn job was making his stomach complain, but there was nothing he could do about it… exactly yet. To distract himself from the growing hunger, he allowed his chocolate eyes to wander left and right, eyeing the rich people and the extravagant decorations. Until his eyes landed on _her_.

McCree approached her table once again, noticing the empty glass that she played with between her nimble fingers. With a recently retrieved bottle of Merlot wine in his large hands he stood next to her table, absent-mindedly counting the seconds until she abandoned the sight of the beautiful Venice at night across clean crystal to meet his rather intimidating shape.

“Shall I refill?” She spoke no words and simply raised the slim cup with a curt nod. McCree swallowed a grimace; not much of a talker, no sirree. He would have even guessed she couldn’t speak English. But, heavens, was she a beauty to behold. “Mind if I ask about your order...” he paused, glancing down at her well-groomed hands, and smiled, “signorina?”

He was almost cringing at how hard it was being keeping his southern accent at bay, but was pretty proud of the Italian he had learned on a magazine he had found wrinkled and overused on the flight to the beautiful city.

“If possible,” she finally spoke, and McCree would have smiled (her voice was smooth and beautiful, cascading into his ears with an accent he wasn’t sure was Italian or anything else), but her next words prevented any sort of amusement to bubble inside the man. “I’d rather _you_ didn’t take my order.”

Jesse was bewildered. What had she meant by that? He could feel anger boiling his blood, and he frowned heavily at the woman who wouldn’t even bother to look up at him, happily sipping at the exotic-colored drink.

“And why would that be?” He was talking painfully slowly, having a hard time keeping his emotions safe. Nothing surprising when he had been quite literally ignored the four other times he had come up to her table to check on her. “I’m afraid my coworkers are pretty busy at the moment. The place is brimming with people.” He smirked, taking a small notebook from his back pocket and closing his eyes before summoning a small, yet deep breath. “What will it be?”

“My leave. The bill, please.” Despite the apparent manners, her voice was filled with an unfounded spite he found especially infuriating. His fingers gripped at the notebook, wrinkling the sheets of paper as he forced a smile that looked positively wild.

“My apologies, signora-”

“Stop calling me that, sounds ridiculous coming from you.”

“-but you can’t leave without having ordered a full course,” he lied. Or maybe he was right, he honestly didn’t know. Where had his ears been when he had been explained the rules of the restaurant, albeit briefly? He just started that same day, and he was already losing several straws and seriously thinking of screwing it up.

She looked taken-aback, a loss at words, but that didn’t stop her from finally looking up and glaring at him, and then it was he who lost track of thought when those beautiful jewels acknowledged his presence, even if clouded with something akin to anger.

“Look,” he managed, recomposing himself and remembering his displeasure, “it’s not my fault you have been stood up, but courtesy is common sense, missy...” He growled the last word, dangerously, hunched over and breathing into her ear, letting her inhale his smell consisting of clear aftershave and smoke. And maybe gunpowder somewhere in between, but that only added to the heat that his goddamn pet name had shot straight to her core.

“B-Bold of you to assume I’ve been stood up,” he voice cracked, and she could almost feel the smirk against her ear. “I’m not expecting anyone. Now if you’d please go away and bring my bill?”

“I already told you, you can’t leave yet. And I can’t let a lady go away with a grumpy stomach, can I now?” He could tell the façade of his voice was crumbling down, but he did not care. In fact, the lower her spoke, the bolder his words left his mouth, the more color her cheeks, ears and neck seemed to gain. “So please lemme give ya a tour over the menu.”

He took the rather tall, hard-cover menu in his hand and opened it on the first page, the salads section. It was wide enough to cover a couple of pages or more, but that wasn’t what the woman could focus on. His breathing was heavy on her earlobe while he literally just read the many types of salad in an obviously fake Italian accent, mixed with the bluntness of his Southern drawls that was making her legs tremble. Unfortunately for her, McCree was very confident in his charms, and known to be awfully observant of the little things he could do to others with his ministrations… He was a-high-percentage-sure the woman right here was interested in what his voice was subtly promising, and he suddenly started to theorize about exactly why she hadn’t wanted him as her waiter.

“Oh, excuse me, signorina,” he went back to using the damned name, yet she didn’t seem to care this time, “I didn’t start with the chart of wines because I deemed you might have drunk enough for the time being.” He felt her flinch against him, and shiver positively with every gentle stroke of his fingers across her bare thighs. His fingertips were almost hovering above the forming goose-bumps, feather like or, rather, resembling a floating lettuce leaf.

Oh, gods, the salads were already making her go crazy.

She noticed how her skirt was hiked up higher and higher by his adventurous hand and was Jesse happy that she hadn’t slapped it away from her. It grew closer to her throbbing core, and the agent in disguise turned the page.

“Now, appetizers...” She had to swallow the moan when his hand slid down her thigh, to the apex of her wonderfully spread legs, to rub at her wet panties. “I’m no one to tell, but I’ve heard they depict very well a small taste of what’s to come...”

“Nghh...” She wanted to moan something. No, she wanted to warn him, to call his name, but what was his name? She never asked, and she was certain he didn’t know how to call her other than “signorina” but none of them seemed to care much. She was suddenly thankful that the broad body she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of was now hiding what his fingers were doing to her. It was so risky, but the idea of being seen only made her pussy clench in a sudden wave of pleasure. This man…

“Is it good, dalin’? I’m sure it is.” His fingers were starting to tug on the damp fabric of her panties, pulling them to the side and revealing her naked core only for him to peek at under the table. “Hmm, it is this fellow growin’ hungry now, sweet pea.”

She panted, barely managing to keep a straight face, looking from side to side; he was not wasting time in being a tease, digits easily finding her clit and rubbing feverishly, bringing incessant waves of pleasure to rock her back and forth, quite literally, as she ground against the silky seat that supported her tense body and that she was surely making a mess on.

“Now well, I can’t let you get full before even getting to the main course.” And with those words, slowly spoken into her ear, he retreated his hands, leaving her throbbing clit and contracting insides a second away from what had promised to be a strong orgasm.

“Aah, shit...” she groaned in dismay, bucking her hips to get some sort of last push, but it was in vain, and she could only stare up at him, weakly, as he brought his soaked fingers up to his lips, getting a taste of her.

“Hmm, waiters like me ain’t allowed to eat while working, but you’re gonna have to forgive me. Now tell me...” He turned a couple of pages, coming to the section of main dishes. “What’d ya like t’have?”

Among the dizziness of being denied such a climax, she managed to bark out a teasing “meat” while biting her lower lip and looking up at Jesse through long eyelashes and an intense stare colored the shade of her eyes, which he was starting to adore varnished in that glaze of lust.

“Fuck, mighty choice.” He growled, and the woman dared to look down to notice the bulge growing against his pants, almost invisible under the fabric as dark as the night outside.

By some sort of miracle, the lady managed to pull herself together and stand up, brushing past a momentarily puzzled Jesse and heading to the door that read _‘toilette’._ Looking at the rooted man over her shoulder, she offered a tempting lick of those plump lips that served as the starting shot for Jesse to stomp behind her.

“What the fuck is Jesse doing…?” Muttered an exasperated Gabriel Reyes as he stared from afar, sitting on a table with both Genji and Moira to each side, while the former rolled his eyes and mumbled something muffled under his breath and the latter facepalmed and shook her head.

 

* * *

 

The smell of neutral soap and soft lemon-scented air freshener was gulped down in harsh breaths as the bathroom grew in temperature. Thank god the restaurant was so well-known that even the restroom was pristine clean, for had it not been that way, [Name] would have been against having sex with Jesse there. He had finally learned her name, having asked her during the first of the two orgasms he had made her go through yet, pounding her into the wall of the farthest bathroom stall.

“Oh shit, shit, Jesse, harder...” She moaned into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of the vest that coated his shoulders under her tightened hands. The man was so broad, so oversized for the shirt that was probably meant for a waiter of lankier physique, but it only made him all the more appealing, suit tight against every inch of muscle. And he was so, so warm, she could only cling onto him to feel the coziness of his scent and warmth while he, simultaneously, wrecked her.

A whimper abandoned her throat when he slowed down, and only a second later she noticed that someone had entered the restroom… again. She hated it, since Jesse would control his pacing, reducing the volume of the wet sounds as he thrust into her, as well as her own voice’s. His movements were languid yet deep, and she could tell, by the furrowed brow and intense look in those endless eyes, that he was close.

“Shit, signorina...” He moaned lowly, pushing his hips as far as they could go, burying himself balls deep. Thankfully, both were so focused on the pleasure they could only notice the way a nearby toilet was flushed, water running, steps, a door opening and closing and finally, silence again. “Aw, yes!”

With a growl he started to pound into her again, startling [Name], who had not been ready for the sudden power up behind his movements and was struggling to catch a solid grip on his shoulders once again, legs tightening around his wide hips and heels piercing into his lower back.

“Oh shit, I’m going to cum...” he muttered as if he had just realized that, and swiftly allowed one of his arms to snake down and rub her clit in tight circles that got her head slamming back against the wall. “Careful there, doll...”

She tried to ignore the throb on the back of her head, but the pain mixed with the pleasure he was providing, resulting in a dizzying sensation that soon made her lose a grasp on her surroundings. With his amazingly-coordinated movements, she was coming all around his cock, tightening and panting his name over and over again after a hardly-suppressed moan. Not long after, McCree felt himself almost tip over the end, hips bucking harder against her oversensitive core. He became needier, he needed her, he needed it, he needed her…!

“Cosa sta succedendo qui?!” The angry howl that came along with the stall door slamming open was almost, _almost_ swallowed by the deep groan that the supposed waiter allowed as he came inside of [Name], if we are being honest, almost from the scare. He needed a second to catch his breath, but the woman was already squealing for him to get a grip and make himself, at the very least presentable to assume the scolding, absolutely mortified. However, he could feel how her insides tightened around him, and a lazy smile played on his lips as he realized that the strong throbbing of her heart was not only caused by the sheer humiliation… nor the aftermath of her orgasm added. Maybe.

Amidst the many insults in Italian and still recovering from the intense high, the brown-haired male could only thank god that the dude screaming by the door wasn’t his actual boss. Had it been Gabe, he was sure he wouldn’t have seen the end of it.

 

* * *

 

The deafening noise of commands and gunshots and bullets coming and piercing in all directions and angles wasn’t stopping the group of four from running away, mission gone askew to what had been planned, yet it never stopped Gabriel from being his joking self.

“This mess was all worth it to see McCree trying to pass himself off as a waiter.” His voice was mocking and loud (and a tiny bit sarcastic) as he shot a couple of soldiers down. The mentioned man blew some smoke and tipped his hat tauntingly… He had missed the rough feel of it against the crown of his head.

“I thought I did just fine.” Even though he should have been embarrassed, McCree had stood proud throughout the whole scolding and the disapproval on his boss’ face. “No one jotted orders down like I did.”

“You got _fired_ from your _cover job_ , Jesse.” Sighed the Hispanic, shaking his head and growling at the younger comrade. “And don’t make me remind you what you did, moron.”

“Well, the lady was bein’ rude! She had it comin’” He grumbled around the thick cigar, yet couldn’t really hide the smile despite the bitterness of the situation. Which reminds him of his awfully interrupted full course. “I really coulda used a dessert...”


End file.
